Back on March 29, 2011 -- another time, another almost quaint era it almost seems -- I wrote a couple of articles about what I called the Republican Party's longstanding War on Education. Though I've reposted the articles since, the topic seems more than timely to address again, now that Trump and his team have begun pushing efforts to get rid of the Department of Education. To clarify, "have begun" merely refers to this current effort. It is hardly a new concept for the party. Indeed, I address their calls for shuttering the Department back in the second of those 2011 articles. Raising the issue has always been a disturbing bugaboo for Republicans, outraged that anyone would even dare have the gall to just suggest their party is against education, no matter how much evidence supports the long-documented fact. But as I wrote a decade-and-a-half ago -- "It’s simple: if you don’t want to be angered when your candidates are perceived as less than brilliant, then promote brilliance. Don’t make it your platform to abolish the Department of Education. Don’t claim that opinion supplants fact." To which I could now add, don't claim that "alternative facts" exist and supplant fact. What I also noted at the very end is something I think most-especially and importantly bears repeating today as Trump and his enablers try to force a divisive wedge between the parties -- "Ultimately, though, there is something far more important at issue than mere politics. "Will Durant, with his wife Ariel, wrote the legendary Story of Civilization. Eleven volumes, over 8,000 pages of discovery that remains today insightful, even-handed and remarkable. And after they finished, they put together The Lessons of History. Written over 40 years ago, in 1968, its perception is as fresh as any news headline you will read." “Democracy is the most difficult of all forms of government, since it requires the widest spread of intelligence, and we forgot to make ourselves intelligent when we made ourselves sovereign. Education has spread, but intelligence is perpetually retarded by the fertility of the simple. A cynic remarked that ‘you mustn’t enthrone ignorance just because there is so much of it.’ However, ignorance is not long enthroned, for it lends itself to manipulation by the forces that mold public opinion. It may be true, as Lincoln supposed, that ‘you can’t fool all the people all the time,’ but you can fool enough of them to rule a large country.” And since the words that the Durants wrote, now almost 60 years ago, remain prescient, here, then, is the first of my articles on the MAGOP War on Education. Every Child Left Behind
March 29, 2011 Several years ago, I had a realization: conservatives don’t care about education. It’s a generalization, I admit. And sounds outlandish. Yet for the past 60 years, conservatives have made crystal clear their utter disdain for education. Hoping to convince others. It began in 1952. When Dwight Eisenhower ran for president against Adlai Stevenson, the contemptuous attack Republicans made was that Stevenson was “an egghead.” Someone who was really – smart. And you just can’t trust those smart people. In 1960, when Richard Nixon ran against John Kennedy, the Republican blast was that JFK was advised by his “Harvard Mafia.” Smart people. So smart that they were dangerous. And you can’t trust those smart people who go to good colleges. When Richard Nixon was elected president in 1968, he hated those smart people who go to colleges so much that students made his Enemies List. And later his "get tough" policies on student dissent (including wanting the Secret Service to beat up protestors) resulted in Republican governor Jim Rhodes sending armed troops sent the campus of Kent State University -- and four "enemy" undergraduates were killed. In 1988, George Bush claimed to be “the Education President” – yet on an campaign stop in Los Angeles told a rally of service employees that not everyone had to go to college. A valid sentiment, certainly, but for a candidate supposedly promoting education, it leaked his true feelings. And in 2000, George W. Bush failed to fund his “No Child Left Behind” education program. It’s continued for 60 years, as conservatives have demeaned public education, pounding away at the national consciousness that learning for the masses is a bad thing to be scorned and mistrusted. There’s an understandable – and historic – reason for this, of course, because the less educated the public is, the more it relies on authority figures, rather than question anything. And the more that education is disdained, the less that inconvenient facts will be believed. And so, instead, we get an attitude that challenges any assertion of education with a contemptuous, “So, you think you’re better than the rest of us??” – conditioning people to wear with pride that they know less. In all other areas of life, we want the best. We want more riches, more success, to be faster, stronger, cooler – better at everything. Except, after 60 years of conservative pounding against education, not to be as smart as we and our children can be. And while this conservative effort has been surreptitious over the past 60 years, it’s finally released itself: open, unrelenting Republican attacks in Wisconsin against teachers – teachers, for goodness sake! – and a widespread Republican war against education. In Florida, $3.3 billion has been cut from education over the next two years [UPDATE: under then-Gov. Rick Scott, now the state's U.S. senator] almost 15% from the education budget to our children. While $1.6 billion has been given in corporate tax breaks. Texas has proposed $9.8 billion in cuts in education assistance to school districts. (Bringing a loss of 100,000 jobs.) Wisconsin cut $834 million from state aid to K-12 education over the next two years. That’s 20% of the proposed cuts in the budget. And cuts to teacher pay and pensions. We have always heard the praise that teaching is the most important job. That teachers are preparing our most precious resource, our children, for the future. How teachers are underpaid heroes. But from the other side of their hypocritical mouths, conservatives will slam teachers as lazy slackers with three months of vacation, overpaid plunderers of public pensions – and for 60 years desensitize the public for stripping away public education. And now, they couldn’t be any more clear: Last Wednesday in Iowa, three prospective Republican presidential candidates bluntly stated their condemnation of public education at a home schooling rally. "The public school system now is a propaganda machine," said Congressman Ron Paul (R-TX). “And they condition them to believe in so much which is totally un-American." Like, apparently, the Pledge of Allegiance. "It is not up to a bureaucrat to decide what is best for your children," insisted Michele Bachmann (R-MN), who home-schooled five children. "We know best." Except about U.S. history. Home teacher Bachman recently placed the cornerstone of the American Revolution – Lexington and Concord – in the wrong state. "That's all we want,” said Herman Cain, a prominent businessman testing a GOP presidential run. “For government to get out of the way so we can educate ourselves and our children the old-fashioned way." Note: “the old-fashioned way” included one teacher for six grades in one room, few women and minorities, and teaching math with an abacus. But it was left to the event’s host, Justin LaVan, to explain plainly how so many conservatives truly see education. "Talking about our Creator. Our rights that came from our Creator, acknowledging that and giving Him the glory." Of course, that’s why God invented church. For educating children to succeed in a global community where others are learning science, history and geography, it’s a disaster. If prayer worked in school, every kid would get straight-A’s. And in the end, that disaster is what conservatives have long wanted from education. No need to learn anything. No public education. Just private schools and home schooling. Which is the end of an educated nation. Private schools limit education to those who can afford it. Home schooling limits education to families where one parent can afford to stay home. While hoping that the parent completed high school. This is known as every child left behind. But for conservatives, that’s okay. The wealthy and privileged will get their children a great education. And the rest of America? You’re on your own. Public education is what helped make America the envy of the world. A nation of well-informed citizens. Leading the way in the space race, technology, finance, and medical advances. But conservatives? They want to go back to “the old fashioned way.” Like the Dark Ages. Where kings and the aristocracy ruled. And you peasants, obey thy overlord. Make no mistake, this is nothing new. The attack against education is the drug that conservatives have been pushing through history.
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Ben Franklin was born on this day, January 17, in 1706. And as I like to do to celebrate, I thought I'd post a few songs with the good fellow from a couple of Broadway musicals. Yes, a couple -- there are two musicals I know of that feature Benjamin Franklin, which is probably two more than most people would have guessed for a very long time. While I'm certain that 1776 comes first to mind for most people, instead we're going to start with another. It's a show that opened in October, 1964, called Ben Franklin in Paris. And it had an impressive lead -- Robert Preston, in his first musical since The Music Man. It had music and lyrics by a fellow named Sidney Michaels and also starred Ulla Sallert. The show didn't have a long run, though did play for 215 performances, which is half a year. I'm not bowled over by the score, but it does have a few nice things in it. And happily, my favorite song even has video of it when the cast appeared on The Ed Sullivan Show and performed the song and the scene that leads into it. This is "Half the Battle." The other song, "Look for Small Pleasures," is quite nice, in a small, charming way. In fact, it even had a bit of life outside the show and was recorded by several people, with moderate success. And of course we have to follow that up with something from 1776, with music and lyrics by Sherman Edwards. So, here then is "The Egg." And...oh, okay, let's throw in an offbeat bonus. No, it's not a musical about Ben Franklin, but how can we end a celebration of the good fellow without this song from Mary Poppins?! Well, it’s been quite a couple of days, so far. On that first night, I was getting a lot of calls, emails and texts from relatives back in Chicago, watching news of the Los Angeles fires, and asking if I was all right and how close it was and if I was going to evacuate. I much appreciated their concern – and completely understood: the continual video on the news was horrific, and the fire came closer to me than any in all my time in Los Angeles. Maybe 5-6 miles. But although it was close, I wasn’t in any danger, which I would explain. (The toughest question asked was “Do you have somewhere to evacuate to??!” – because I didn't want to frighten them further since most of my friends are on the Westside, and even closer to the fire zone than me. I was offering my guest room to them.) I did have my electricity go out for 15 hours, but compared to what else was going on in fire areas almost doesn’t qualify as much more than a temporary inconvenience. But of course, what stood out most for me was not just what was sure to be massive devastation, but on a personal note were all of the people I knew in very real danger in the Palisades, or at nearby risk. I was able to get in touch with one friend whose home was directly in the heart of Pacific Palisades, and his family was able to get out in the afternoon, thankfully. Another friend lives in northwest Santa Monica (that borders the Palisades) right next to the evacuation zone. He decided to evacuate and stayed in my guest room. He safely went back home yesterday. A third friend was packed and ready to leave as soon as he and his wife got an evacuation notice. Happily, none came, though they did decide to evacuate to their son's home. But so very sadly, my friend in Pacific Palisades lost his house. I can't even imagine the feelings. Fortunately, he has good coverage and a temporary place to live – but it’s not just the loss of a home and everything in it, but the major disruption to one’s life to have to regroup and start over. Now, multiply that by thousands, and the devastation of all the fire zones – mainly for the Pacific Palisades and Pasadena/Altadena. With one person, when such a loss happens, agonizing as it is you may have the option of rebuilding and eventually returning to the life and community you had before. But in the Palisades and wide areas of Pasadena and elsewhere, there's no life to return to, no community, it's gone. At some point, those villages and communities happily will be built up again. And may even (or likely) flourish with a new vibrance. Growth is the way of the world, a new start. But it will be starting from scratch. What also was so awful was another loss. But first, some background. In my earlier days after graduate school and before I seriously got involved in the film industry, I worked for 3-4 years for the California State Park Service at Will Rogers State Historic Park. It was a great place – Will Rogers’ home, polo field, equestrian arena and barns, and grounds so wide that they were used as a three-hole golf course (which he put in when an actor friend, Lewis J. Stone, had badly injured his legs in an accident and recuperated there, for which Will Rogers converted the grounds to the golf course as an incentive for Stone to get walking in every day) and extensive forest land. It was a wonderful job – I learned to twirl a rope and jump in it while spinning (really, honest!) and even considered applying for taking the California Park Ranger test. Until my father basically said, “You didn’t go to film school and get a Masters degree in screenwriting to become a park ranger.” He was right. I loved the park service, but am glad I stuck with my goal. The Rogers ranch house, up a winding road north of Sunset Blvd. in the Palisades, was tremendous. It was two connected wings, full of historic mementos from his travels and life, cowboy artwork from his renowned friends (notably Charles Russell, who Rogers thought was far more authentic – being a former cowboy, like himself -- to the more famous Frederic Remington), a great library filled with books inscribed to him by his famous friends, letter and more. I would periodically find hidden material as I wandered through the place, things that were never seen by the public and that probably even the staff didn’t know were there. I surreptitiously made copies of some of it, and still have it – a book inscribed by Harry Houdini, a book with a magnificent thank you note carefully hand-printed by Helen Keller, a framed letter of thanks stuck in a drawer written by Theodore Roosevelt. Things like that. (By the way, if you ever see The Will Rogers Story on TCM, it’s not a bad telling of his life. His son, Will Jr., played his father, with Jane Wyman – Ronald Reagan’s first wife – as Betty Rogers. And they did a great job creating the house, though they moved some of the furniture around as better for the movie.) And so it was with a rush of deep memories and heartache that learned it too was lost in the fire yesterday. That was a fear of mine as I followed the news. And it was awful to have it confirmed. I don’t know how much was destroyed, but it seems that all the buildings were. I saw a photo of one small structure almost all ashes and a partial shell, and it awful. If there’s a happy note, it’s this sentence – “State Parks was able to evacuate the horses and some of the cultural and historical artifacts, including artwork, at Will Rogers SHP ahead of the fire.” I have no idea what the insurance is like on the estate. While I suppose it's possible that the Park Service will rebuild a re-creation of at least the home and perhaps some of the horse facilities, it's not something I expect. We'll see. About 40 years ago, there was a big Palisades fire when I was working at the park -- I was off that day, but drove in to help. I did what little I was allowed to, like watering the roofs of the home, and took a few photos of the fire. And happily, the ranch house and buildings were saved, though the grounds and surrounding forest had been overwhelmed. I went back the next day and took photos of the devastation, following a path I'd taken a year before, that I'd photographed. And then followed the same path six months later to photograph the regrowth. I recall one of my fellow park aides – a girl named Lisa – got upset at me for taking the pictures after the fire, but later one of the Rangers said he was glad I did because it was important to have a record of such things. I can’t touch on the devastation of the current fire that was so much more massive and destructive. And the great loss to my friends and others. And so I don’t want to even try – it would be too small and give the wrong impression. Instead though, with the loss of Will Rogers State Historic Park, I thought I'd end this all by honoring it with some of those photos that I took. Some before the fire, and those during, the day after and six months later. None of these touch on what’s going on now. These 28 pictures serve only as my way of honoring this one historic loss, and commemorating all the others. It starts with photos I took of the ranch house, grounds and forest land of his property around a year before the fire about 40 years ago. Then, there was that day when I got a call about the fire in the Palisades and foothills, asking if I could come in to the park to help. As I got in the car, I saw this looming to the west, where I was headed. Adding to the impact of it all is that I lived across the street of the Veterans Cemetery in West Los Angeles, and you can see the headstones at the bottom. The next day, I went back to the park and took photos of the burned-out grounds, and followed the hiking trip I'd taken previously to show the same parkland. I would imagine that this is much like it so sadly looks today -- but with the ranch house and all the other building and barns gone. Then, about six months later, I took the same hike yet again to document the regrowth, showing how remarkable nature can be so soon. Along with the mudslides and work left to do. Happily, nature can grow back. So sadly, the same can't be said for man-made structures. Here is the ranch house yesterday. That is the fireplace in the living room from the third photo above. Happily, as noted above, the Park Service saved some of the cultural and historical materials, and artwork. Their prescience and efforts are honored for protecting at least some of a legacy. Back in 2008, I wrote a piece for the Huffington Post about new discoveries surrounding the holiday classic, Handel's "Messiah." Several months later, I followed it up with additional revelations. Given that 'tis its season yet again - it seems like a fine time to repeat the story, as just another of the many holiday traditions. Sort of like a very early, 18th century version of "The Grinch." But have a glass of nog, as well. Fa la la... Over the passage of years, we lose track of the conditions that existed when artworks were created. When those years become centuries, the history vanishes, and all that remains is the work itself. That is, until someone researches that history, and puts the piece in its original context.
And that brings up Handel's "Messiah." By any standard, it's a brilliant piece of music, which has understandably lasted 250 years. Even to those who don't share its religious underpinning, the music is enthralling, and part of the celebration of the Christmas season. Oops. Now comes this detailed, deeply-researched article in the New York Times by Michael Marissen. "So 'Messiah' lovers may be surprised to learn that the work was meant not for Christmas but for Lent, and that the 'Hallelujah' chorus was designed not to honor the birth or resurrection of Jesus but to celebrate the destruction of Jerusalem and the Second Temple in A.D. 70. For most Christians in Handel's day, this horrible event was construed as divine retribution on Judaism for its failure to accept Jesus as God's promised Messiah." Oops. Mr. Marissen does an impressive, scholarly and even-handed job uncovering the history of Handel's "Messiah." If anyone is interested in that history, do read the article. At the very least, read it before stating an opinion on it... To be clear, this is not about political correctness. This is about correctness. The truth, we are told, shall set us free. Either we go out of our way to learn the truth in our lives - and embrace it - or we bury our heads in the sand and listen to the sounds of gravel. People will still listen to Handel's "Messiah" for centuries to come, whatever the reality behind it. The music is glorious. The words? Well, be honest, it's a fair bet that most people don't know exactly what's being sung about anyway - it's 2-1/2 hours, for goodness sake. Most fans wouldn't listen to "American Idol" for that long. People tend to tune out Handel's "Messiah" about six minutes in and let the music wash over them. When the "Hallelujah Chorus" is about to begin, they get nudged and sit up straight. And even at that, the only words most people know are "Hallelujah" and that it will "reign forever and ever." (Some people probably think it's about Noah's Ark.) So, in some ways, the libretto of Handel's "Messiah" is not of critical importance 250 years after the fact. And that might be the biggest joke on Charles Jennens, who wrote the text and apparently saw the work as a way to confront what he believed was "a serious menace" in the world By having his friend Handel set his pointed tracts to music, Jennens felt that would help get his point across more subtly to the public. The result, of course, was that the spectacular music swamped over the words, and over time they took on a completely different meaning. This is known as the Law of Unintended Consequences. Or also, be careful what you wish for, you just might get it. Somewhere up in heaven, or more likely down in hell, Charles Jenniens has been pounding his head against a wall for the last couple hundred Christmases, screaming, "No, no, no! Don't you people get it?!! It's supposed to be about celebrating the destruction of heathen nations, not the embracing love of mankind. You people are so lame!" And it gets worse, because starting the day after Christmas - until the next Christmas when Handel's "Messiah" starts playing again - Jennens berates himself all year, wondering if he screwed up his work and didn't make it clear. Like maybe he used too many metaphors, or commas. Or perhaps in Scene 6, when he wrote, "Thou shalt break them with a rod of iron," he should have explained who "them" was or described a different bludgeon. No doubt there will be some people aghast by anyone making critical revelations (no matter how valid) about the writing of Handel's "Messiah." I also have no doubt that almost all those who are aghast have never sat through the 2-1/2 hour work. Nor that most of those ever paid attention to what the precise words actually were. But they will be aghast anyway. On the other hand, most people who have sat and sat through a 2-1/2 hour performance of Handel's "Messiah" likely welcome having an excuse now not to have to do so again. Mr. Marissen concludes his study with a thought on the subject. "While still a timely, living masterpiece that may continue to bring spiritual and aesthetic sustenance to many music lovers, Christian or otherwise, 'Messiah' also appears to be very much a work of its own era. Listeners might do well to ponder exactly what it means when, in keeping with tradition, they stand during the 'Hallelujah' chorus." And while singing along, they might want to add a "Hallelujah" for the truth, as well. And that, I thought, was the end of the story. But it wasn't. A few months later, while reading Volume 9 of Will and Ariel Durant's majestic Story of Civilization, entitled "The Age of Voltaire," I came upon their extensive discussion of Handel. After the passage on "The Messiah," the Durants continue on with the composer's life and eventually reach five years later, April of 1747, when Handel had hit hard times. Not only had he written a string of failures and needed to close his theater, but he went into a sort of retirement, and rumor passed that he may even gone insane, though perhaps it might have been mental exhaustion. (The Earl of Shaftesbury remarked, "Poor Handel looks a little better. I hope he will recover completely, though his mind has been entirely deranged.") However there was yet more to Handel -- and to the story relating somewhat to the controversy today about "The Messiah." The Durants write -- "...Handel, now sixty years old, responded with all his powers to an invitation from the Prince of Wales to commemorate the victory of the Prince's younger brother, the Duke of Cumberland, over the Stuart forces at Culloden. Handel took as a symbolic subject Judas Maccabaeus' triumph (166-161 B.C.) over the Hellenizing schemes of Antiochus IV. The new oratorio was so well received (April 1, 1747) that it bore five repetitions in its first season. The Jews of London, grateful to see one of their national heroes so nobly celebrated, helped to swell the attendance, enabling Handel to present the oratorio forty times before his death. Grateful for this new support, he took most of his oratorio subjects henceforth from Jewish legend or history: Alexander Balus, Joshua, Susanna, Solomon and Jephtha. By contrast, Theodora, a Christian theme, drew so small an audience that Handel ruefully remarked, "There was room enough to dance." No doubt, Charles Jennens, author of the text for "The Messiah," is spinning even faster and deeper in his grave. But quality does win out over time. And so does transcending decency. And that, perhaps, in part, and in the end, may well be what we're left with. Hallelujah, indeed. For those who like to look at the calendar for such things, today is the 80th anniversary of D-Day, June 6, 1944. I thought it would therefore be especially appropriate to post this video. It's the wonderful theme to the movie, The Longest Day, sung and performed most appropriately by the Cadet Glee Club of West Point, along with military band. I first posted this video five years ago in 2017. It’s my favorite one on the subject – not just for the performance, but for how movingly the video is edited. It's particularly well-done, beginning with a minute of General Dwight Eisenhower's message to the troops before the invasion began, and interspersed with some excellent photos and archival film from the day, amid the soaring music. By the way, the timpani you hear before the song begins is not only recognizable as the beginning of Beethoven's Fifth Symphony, but more to the point, it's the Morse Code for “V” for Victory. Also, in case you weren't aware, the main theme for The Longest Day, used throughout the film not just in the end titles, was written by pop-star heartthrob at the time, Paul Anka. I will only add that today commemorates when the United States and democracies around the world came together to fight and defeat Nazis and fascism. About 10 days ago, history documentarian Ken Burns gave the commencement address at Brandeis University. It got a great deal of attention for Burns acknowledging that he was going to break his long-held position of impartiality and then speaking out bluntly against Trump in the coming election (though not referencing him by name, but through what's at stake and the reasons for it). Interestingly, the passage on the election only lasts 90 seconds, in a 21-minute speech. What is interesting, as well, is that not only is the entire speech beautifully eloquent and thoughtful, but it's critical for those 90 seconds because it puts them all in context. In explaining what is important about history and why, it makes clear without proselytizing what is so important about the November election. And why. The only line I want to quote from the speech has nothing to do with what brought it so much attention -- and, in fact, has little to do on the surface with much of the speech. It comes near the end, as a sort of coda. But it's the sensibility of the line that permeates through the speech. And gets a surprised, burst of reaction for it being unexpected in its perspective for where it goes. He says, "Insist that we support science and the arts. Especially the arts. They have nothing to do with the actual defense of our country. They just make our country worth defending." If you haven't seen the speech, it's extremely good, involving, with good storytelling, thoughtful insists, and even moments of humor. |
AuthorRobert J. Elisberg is a political commentator, screenwriter, novelist, tech writer and also some other things that I just tend to keep forgetting. Feedspot Badge of Honor
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